nothing in here is true

Monday, November 7, 2005

crazy motherfucker named ice cube. in a band called niggas with attitudes. when im called off, i got a sawed off. squeeze the trigger and bodies are hauled off. you too boy if you fuck wit me. the police are gonna have to get me. off your ass, thats how im going out, for the punk motherfuckers thats showin out, niggaz start to mumble, they wanna rumble, mix em and cook em in a pot like gumbo, goin off on a motherfucka like that, with a gat thats pointed at yo ass, so give up smooth, aint no tellin when im down for the jack move…

its 832am and this is my last communiquee from sparkling bc. i must say im a little sad to be leaving canada today. and every morning when i wake up theres usually a song in my head that has absolutely nothing to do with how i feel. maybe my brain is singing me nwa because it knows that im going back to the city of angels later today, home of ice cube, home of dre, home of nwa, home of pretty much everything i love.

but when i was in nyc i fell in love with that little up n coming burg and now im in love with this quaint village, and who knows, when i go back to the city i grew up in in three weeks i will probably fall in love with chicago as well.

in my wildest dreams i would drive around like john madden in a chauferred tour bus and just go city to city and hang out there until i was bored and meet all of you and write and sample the food and drink the booze and kiss the girls and take pictures and fall in love in every area code just like ive done here.

last night matt and jenny and their two friends from vegas and i went to a restaurant owned by an iron chef. it looked super cool inside with orange padded walls and dark red seats and furry chandeleirs and hot girls in little black dresses and smiles. somehow the prices werent outrageous, they were what youd expect for a nice meal out. jennys a fashion model so of course she was decked out, as were the nice people from vegas, but matt suprised us all with wearing a shirt tie and jacket.

because i keep it real i had the eazy-e sheepskin lining flannel over my other flannel but the soft vancouverites didnt say whose that murder rapper that keeps you dancin, with a crime record like charles manson, ak 47 is the tool, dont make me act a motherfuckin fool… they said its matt good eh. and i was barely recognized, just like i like.

the iron chef knows how to do it. im being told we were at feeni’s. people had tar tar, people had spagatini, my asian girlfriend with the poofy miniskirt had a burger n fries, and matt had pigeon but it was all presented so beautifully that i was really curious how this dude woulda made red beans and rice with collard greens and chitlins – itd probably look like nothing youve ever seen which is why once everyone has buzznet strips on the sides of their blogs – cough cough – that means you – i will take my riches and begin johnny appleseeding soulfood around the great white north, europe, and the central coast of california – my real home.

the food was great, but the star of the night was the port. matt, we kidded, is so knowledgeable that if you were ever on who wants to be a millionaire you should have him as your lifeline. jenny joked that the rumor was that mark mcgrath asked his manager who should be his lifeline when he appeared on celeb millionaire and his manager said matt no question, and i believe it. he quizzed the young waiter about the year of the port and the waiter said ah we have three and matt was all is it blah blah blah and the waiter hemmed and hawwed and finnaly just brought out all three bottles that they had there and he examined the brands and said we will take this unmarked mysterious bottle, and let me tell you something about tea totallers and mormons and non drinkers, i feel sorry for you because part of life my pretties is kissing exotic girls smoking foreign brands of weed and when youre in rome drinking austrailian port. it was killer.

because i went to school in isla vista my tolerance of alcohol is what it should be: ridiculously high, so after i ordered a shot of bacardi, neat, midmeal, which raised eyebrows for some reason, and politely sipped it, i was more than ready for the afterdinner port, and as the fates would have it, it was ready for me. it slowdanced beautifully down my throat like a casual tourist and the mist of aftertaste billowed back up to remind me of what was. and like creeper pot after a few minutes the buzz came subtely and strongly and it was delicous. after half a glass i was tipsey and after a full glass the volume of my voice had raised a notch and my smile had grown a good half inch.

and that is probably why the good book does not advise against drinking, just drinking to excess.

we all drove back to the good’s for more rum and port and played with the dogs and talked about jet blue because the woman from vegas is a flight attendant, and before i knew it the night was over and i was going to write something but instead i just read a million blogs and the heaviness hit me and i was asleep before i could shut off the laptop and thats the way i like to fall asleep – passed out with a warm feeling in my head and a goofy smile on my face.

this morning i woke with eazy e dre dre and yella dancing like sugarplums through my inner ear and mc ice cube’s rhymes in my heart which if youre a dream doctor you know that means good things, or in my case great things.

and i hope before i leave today i will be able to pick up a nice canada sweatshirt or canada scarf or vancouver miniskirted asian girl to take back with me because ive left my heart in vancity. and as i leave believe im stompin but when i come back boy im comin straight outta compton.